Regrets
by cheekybeak
Summary: The sequel to "Choices" Elrohir has made his choice but can he live with it? Reality confronts him when he arrives in Minas Tirith, with a wild Legolas nowhere to be found.
1. Chapter 1

**The Legolas and Elrohir I wrote in "Choices" are perhaps my favorites of any I have written...(The Other Side of the Sea being a close second) So here they are again. I couldn't resist writing more. This is a direct sequel happening a few months after "Choices" ends.**

 **Choices is is the story of them getting together and this is what happens next.**

 **All Tolkiens not Mine.**

 **Inferred slash, nothing graphic, don't read it if you don't like it.**

 **Elrohir:**

Minas Tirith was a place he loved. His soul sang there. The stone, the thrum of men, reached that part of him which usually lay buried deep. He was content there in a way he had never been able to achieve in Imladris.

But on this visit he looked forward to more than the soul-peace he achieved from the stone, more than the balm of unconditional love his brother and sister would bestow upon him. This visit, for the first time, he looked forward to Legolas.

For surely he would be there.

Long months it had been since Legolas departed Imladris, leaving him in a turmoil of elation and confusion. They had written—long heartfelt letters pouring their love out on the pages—but although they lifted his heart every time he received them it was not the same.

And so he came with Elladan beside him, to visit his sister and his young brother. To see what progress they had made in the war-torn city of his forefathers and he came with the knowledge Legolas would be there for they had planned it, had they not, in those very letters. They must speak to Estel, before any more time had passed and they would do so together. He had learned his lesson from Elladan's turbulent discovery of his lover.

He would keep secrets no longer.

And he doubted Legolas had ever wished it be a secret at all.

The disappointment when Estel and Arwen came to greet them with no sign of an errant wood-elf—no flash of gold or lilting laugh—was crushing.

He should be here.

He promised he would be here.

It was all he could do to stand and listen to their welcome, to be polite and appreciative of their gladness to see him, and in the end he could not wait. He could not say nothing for the promise of Legolas burned a trail across his soul.

"Is Legolas here Brother?" It was, he hoped, a casual inquiry. Just an aside, a random thought and not obviously the only thing on his mind.

"Legolas?" Estel looked at him with raised eyebrows, "Why do you ask? What business do you have with him?"

"I thought to catch up, that is all. It is long months since we saw him in Imladris. I am interested to hear how his people fare in Ithilien." Too late he remembered he had not mentioned Legolas' Imladris visit to his brother. Perhaps Legolas had? Or Elladan? Perhaps he would not be caught out this early in the conversation.

It was not to be.

"Legolas was in Imladris?" He watched as his brother's look of surprise turned to a frown. "I did not know that."

It was Elladan who saved him. Elladan who still, he knew, resented his love for Legolas. Elladan his brother, who always had his back stepped in to cover for his ineptitude.

"There are so few of us left here now Brother. You do not think we keep in contact with each other?"

"Of course." Estel's response was a quick one, "I was simply surprised he had mentioned nothing of it that is all."

"Who knows what goes on in that uncultured mind?" Elladan laughed, "He probably forgot the instant he left us, so flighty is he."

And Elrohir knew, although Elladan would swear if confronted later he was simply distracting Estel, that his brothers barbed words were real and so was the animosity that lay behind them. He had not yet accepted Legolas had any right to be between them. And sometimes he wondered if he ever would.

"Well he is not here." Estel said matter of factly, his words cutting across Elrohir's thoughts. "In fact I have not seen hide not hair of him for weeks. Or had any communication from him either, save from the occasional missive via Faramir and that is all business. He is avoiding me it seems and I must admit it vexes me."

"Ah, Estel, I have told you, you must let him be." Arwen placed a gentle hand on his brothers shoulder. "Legolas runs with the wind and sometimes he forgets those of us he leaves behind. He will return to you."

At her words he was struck with a sudden pang of anxiety. A memory of that golden beauty weighed down by sadness, of the letter, full of tangled misery he had received from Legolas in Imladris all those months ago.

"It is not the sea-longing?" The urgency with which the thought pushed it's way into his mind made him careless. His words were laced with worry, it was palpable and they all heard it.

"It could be, but how would I know when he will not see me." Estel's words were bitter, "And why does that worry you brother? Legolas' sea-longing is hardly your affair."

And so he back-peddled. He lied. He did what he had sworn he would not on this visit and he hid behind his secret. For Legolas was not here to help him unveil it so what choice did he have.

"It is not my business, no, but he is young and one of my kind, alone here amongst mortals. You think me so unfeeling as to have no concern for his wellbeing? My father taught me better than that Estel. Just because I do not understand him does not mean I forgo all care."

"Forgive me," He felt a twinge of guilt as his little brother rushed to appease him. "I am worried myself, and his silence frustrates me. I should not take it out on you, Brother. Sometimes managing a wood-elf seems more trouble than it is worth."

"And that is where you are going wrong, Estel," Arwen smiled. "For you should not be trying to manage him at all. It is doomed to failure."

"You should be more careful." Elladan hissed in his ear as they strode down the corridor towards their rooms. "You are too obvious Brother, and Estel will be hurt should he discover you. I should know."

He should know indeed, for Elladan had been cruelly hurt when he had discovered their deception, and that would not happen again. Elladan was right, he should be more careful.

But worry twisted itself within him for where was Legolas? Where was his exuberance, his golden ray of light? Why was he not here when they had agreed on it?

He had waited so long to see him.

What was it that was keeping him away?


	2. Chapter 2

The dining hall at Imladris was cultured and refined, gentle murmurs and soft laughter amongst the clinking of cutlery. The dining hall at Minas Tirith on the otherhand was raucous. Shouts and guffaws rung out while plates and saucers clattered. He loved it. It made him feel alive. The part of him that was Man felt accepted and at home.

But tonight he could not enjoy the feeling of belonging for the worry, the terrible, twisted knot of worry that chewed a dark hole within him consumed all.

And worst was the fact he was helpless. There was nothing he could do.

The Page who burst into the hall was breathless, hair spiked all ways in the wind, eyes wide, body tense. Such a sight he was that even Elrohir noticed, dragging himself

out of his mire of unhappiness to stare at the boy as he stood, chest heaving, in front of Estel. He felt sorry for the child.

"My Lord," the boys voice was halting, partly because he struggled to catch his breath after his run. "We have visitors."

And Estel frowned, despite himself. He was not in the best of moods tonight, despite his brothers arrival.

"See them to the reception rooms, keep them warm and fed and I will greet them when I finish here." His voice is tense, frustrated at having to give directions which were self-evident.

"They will not wait-" and as the voices carried down the corridor through the open door, Elrohir felt his heart sing.

It was the dwarf...the dwarf!

"Behave yourself, Legolas! You must do as they bid you. Aragorn will not be pleased with you."

"Oh, he will forgive me."

That voice, oh that voice. It was honey sweet and delicious. He had forgotten just how mesmerising, how exhilarating that sound was.

Although, Estel, it seemed, was not quite as endeared by it, for as he watched, his face slowly darkened from a frown into a scowl.

And when Legolas strode in to the hall, head held high, all noise stopped. Men turned to stare, forks in mid air, and he did not blame them. How could you not stare, for he was beautiful indeed.

He had felt joy before in his life, of course, as a child running through the fields, as a young man on the practice grounds, joy in words of pride from his father. Even recently watching his young brother ascend his throne. Oh he knew what joy felt like but it had never felt like this. Nothing like this intense explosion of delight within him as he gazed upon his lover. This was more than happiness, this was . . . Bliss.

How he glowed, how he drew his eye, how he _was._

And then he smiled. It was a smile of brilliance, a smile that dazzled, a smile that lit up the room. A smile of love, just for him.

"Aragorn!" Legolas seemed oblivious to the mood clinging to his host, completely immune to Estel's displeasure, as he threw himself into a seat, dragging Gimli behind him. "So kind of you to provide a spread such as this for our arrival. How did you know we were hungry?" And he leaned over, piling food on a plate as if he had not eaten for a week—perhaps that was how it was.

"I was _not_ expecting you. How could I when you refuse to answer correspondence? Where have you been?"

"With Gimli! Besides I sent you news, or did Faramir not deliver it? I was sure he would, he is so diligent normally." Legolas tilted his head then as he spoke and his eyes darted across to Elrohir. Was it his imagination or did they shine even brighter at the sight of him?

"Diligent he is, unlike you! Yes he delivered it but it was hardly what I could describe as news, Legolas. A note at best. Did you not think I would be worried?"

But Legolas was lost, attention completely diverted, and Estel's words washed over him like the flow of a river downstream, leaving not a mark upon his consciousness.

"So," he smiled and how Elrohir burned under his scrutiny. "How goes it in Imladris, Noldo? Is it still as boring as when I last was there?"

"And that's another thing!" Estel was having none of this silvan distractibility today. "Look at me, Legolas." He reached across the table and grasped the wood-elf's arm, demanding his attention, refusing to be ignored. "I did not even know you had been to Imladris!"

"It was not a secret." Legolas is wide eyed and guileless as he answers. So completely innocent Elrohir could feel himself almost believng him. Almost, but not quite. The visit was not a secret but _they_ most certainly were.

He could not concentrate on the bickering that followed then. Legolas pretending deliberate ignorance, Estel's increasing frustration as he tried to pin him down, the dwarf adding his opinion along the way. He heard none of it. He was adrift in the swathe of golden hair as it moved to and fro. The flash of green eyes as a glance strayed his way, as it did too often, far too often for him to maintain any focus at all. He yearned for a touch, just one touch that was out of reach.

"Stop staring you fool! You give yourself away." Elladan's whisper in his ear was a jolt back to reality. "Unless you want this to deteriorate into a disaster do not draw Estel's attention to the two of you."

His brother is right, as he always is.

And so he dropped his eyes to his plate and glared at his food, poking it, prodding it, he would not look up. It was an almost impossible task, keeping eyes low, ignoring his love, when the sound of that lilting voice lit a fire within his soul.

At first it was just a distraction, the faintest of nudges within his mind, an unnoticed intrusion which grew into an annoyance, a buzzing he flicked his head at to send it running back to whence it came and he looked up with astonishment into the eyes of his sister. He saw the flash of guilt flit across her face as he met her gaze. She had been meddling, searching within him for an answer, delving out his secrets. She suspected, and he was angry.

How dare she?

How dare she invade his thoughts without permission, whatever the provocation. The anger flared within him and he lashed out with it, sending it rushing towards her fea. And she felt it.

But Legolas did also.

He turned, in the midst of his argument with Estel, eyes wide with surprise and confusion. It was left to Elladan to cover for the lot of them.

"As pleasant as the company of your men is, Estel," he said pulling himself to his feet, "I find I am in the mood for something quieter. Shall we retire to your study? A drink perhaps, which might even pacify this wild silvan, who does not know his manners."

"An excellent idea!" the dwarf chimed in eagerly, and the moment was lost in the kerfuffle of chairs upon the flagstones as they all stood. But Legolas still watched him and he thought he glimpsed hurt in those eyes. He did not even rise to the bait of Elladan's insult which was most unusual, most un-Legolas like.

Retreating to Estel's study was the last thing Elrohir wished to do. It was small and warm and Legolas would be there, all injured pride and cocky sureness, draped across a chair no doubt, in that way he had, and he would not be able to touch, or look or even notice him. It was all too hard and he was no good at this deception. Especially not with Arwen prodding at his mind.

And to make matters worse he had a terrible, creeping, feeling Legolas had misconstrued his anger. Something else he would have to deal with later.

"Are you coming Brother?"

He looked up at Elladan's question and saw them all, standing, watching, waiting for him.

"There is someone I need to see here. I will join you later." Please don't ask me who—he thought. This was as far as his deceptive skills would get him.

"Very well." He breathed again as his brother accepted his absence without explanation and turned to leave. Perhaps he was trying to help? Perhaps he knew Elrohir would never manage the subterfuge necessary to enter that study?

But Legolas; Legolas trailed a hand over his shoulder, down his arm as he passed. A gentle, barely there touch that was at the same time casual and yet suggestive. That hinted at more to come.

Arwen's eyes bored into him still, he was acutely aware of her gaze and she must not see, she would notice everything, and so he shrugged it off, that touch, as if it did not matter, as if it meant nothing to him, though it was all he wished for and more.

And Legolas sighed. He heard it; and he knew he was meant to.

And Arwen did not leave.

Instead she sat beside him as the others trailed out, arms folded, eyes serious.

"You are angry with me." She was always so direct. She reminded him of Legolas in that. Arwen was not afraid of confrontation—in fact, sometimes he wondered if she was ever afraid of anything.

"Do you blame me? What right did you have to seek answers from my mind without permission. What did you think you would find?" He needed to know, to make sure of exactly what she had been searching for.

"I did not look for answers for I already know them!" She was triumphant in her confidence.

"Then why did you look?" He replied, "You know nothing."

"What lies between you and Legolas?" She went straight on the attack, straight for his weakness and he was left reeling.

"Between Legolas and I?" He stumbled as his mind whirled in chaos, what to say? What could he possibly say to distract her? "He is a friend of my brother. A Silvan who knows nothing about civilised company. An acquaintance I must pay attention to because Estel cares for him. What more would be between us than that?"

And she laughed.

"You are so transparent brother, the both of you, and you do _not_ fool me. The way he looked at you! I saw the light in his eyes, and you could not take your own off him. What I want to know is why you keep it secret."

"It is _not_ secret," he protested wildly for something about her made him defensive. "Elladan knows. But we wished to tell Estel together. That is how we planned it, after Imladris-"

"So that is why he went to Imladris!" She interrupted with glee. "It was so strange he had not mentioned it. He went to see you! So he is smitten then." She leant forward in her seat then, suddenly serious, suddenly devoid of light. It was a change that unnerved him.

"And Brother, what does this mean to you? Is it a dalliance to fill your time, or is it something more?"

There was no point in pretence any longer.

"It is more Arwen. It is so much more."

And she turned her head. She did not laugh or exclaim in merriment. She did not press for more. She turned her head away from him so he could not see, but he did see. He saw her tears.

"Arwen!" Reaching out her turned her face back towards him and he was right, she wept. "Arwen, what is wrong?" He was alarmed, a thrill of terror ran through him. Had she seen something? She did have visions, what was it of this that upset her?

"Oh, Elrohir," she placed a hand on his cheek, softly, gently, as if she could not bare to let him go. "Oh, Elrohir, you have made your choice." She had seen right through him, of course she had.

"Oh, Elrohir, you have made your choice. . . and I will lose you."


	3. Chapter 3

"Oh Elrohir, You have made your choice and I will lose you."

He had known all along choosing Legolas would mean sundering himself from his sister. He had known it, but until now, sitting, watching her weep he had not understood it. Or he had not wanted to.

Her own choice had caused him pain, terrible, stomach churning pain but always there had been a chance. Perhaps he would follow her in death? Perhaps they would be reunited once again, for who knew what the gift of Men entailed. Who knew where they went had always been a chance. Their separation, while highly likely, had never been absolute.

It was now.

For one thing he did know was, he would not be meeting her in Valinor. His choice to love Legolas, his choice to follow Legolas, meant losing his sister forever.

He had always imagined that perhaps his choice would be made when he lost her. When he knew what it was like to be the survivor. Could he cope or could he not? And if he could not he would follow. Now he was torn. Whichever way he turned he lost. There was no happy option, no solution, for if he let Legolas go, if he watched him sail knowing they would never meet again—could he even do that? He did not think he could.

"Forgive me," Arwen was wiping her tears now. "I am unfair. You must choose what you must. Though I have harboured hope we might remain together, and it is hard to realise that will not be."

"I have not chosen yet."

He did not even know why he said it for it was a lie and he knew it. Legolas was emblazoned across his soul. Almost as if he was a part of him. But he could not bear the tears of his sister and he wished to hide from her hurt, and from his own if he were honest. But those words were a betrayal.

"Oh, Elrohir. Why do you lie?" There had never been any point lying to Arwen. She was never fooled. "I could see it in the way he looked at you, the way your eyes followed him around the room."

"No, no. Nothing is certain!" And suddenly he desperately wished that to be true. Perhaps he could find a way...somehow...to make this work, a way to keep everyone he loved close to him. It was a fool's wish because deep down he knew he could not. He had to chose one of them to lose hold of.

In truth he had already chosen but what seemed self evident and simple in Imladris now was a mire of hurt and confusion.

Arwen reached out and cupped his cheek gently in her hand and her face was filled with sadness. It was as if they were to be parted this instant, right now, as if she felt him slipping through her fingers as they spoke.

"You must do what makes you happy, and choosing me will not give you happiness, I think." She sighed.

"I do not know what will." He confessed. "I can see no happiness for me either way."

"Does Legolas give you joy?" She asked, "How does he make you feel? For there is your answer."

He remembered then that surge of delight he had felt when Legolas entered the room. That feeling he had never had before with anyone.

"He makes me feel...alive." He ran his hand though his hair, trying desperately to focus. "But without you? ... I cannot choose him over you, I cannot do that!"

"Perhaps your heart has already done that for you?" She smiled gently and he truly felt as if that traitorous heart would break.

He retreated to his room, to sit and brood in front of the fire. Watching the flames paint their patterns in the shadows and regretting...everything. Why did he have to meet Legolas at all? Why had he let him cast this spell over him? It was not fair! None of it was fair.

He knew exactly when it was he arrived. He could feel him, outside the door before he knocked. It was as if he was drawn to him. As if there was a tie pulling the two of them together.

"Come in." He called. He wanted to see him with all his heart but at the same time he did not.

He did not look up when he heard the door open and the light footsteps make their way across the room. He did not move his gaze from the flames until Legolas stood right beside him. Then he looked.

His lover stood, at ease, arms loosely by his side. Head tilted and a question in his eyes.

"You are angry at me." It was a statement of fact. He was not asking him, he was telling him. So direct, just like Arwen. His stomach clenched in pain at the thought.

"I am not angry at you. I was angry with Arwen. She was prying where she had no right to. You were not meant to feel that."

"But I _did_ feel it." He sat himself down in the chair opposite, draping himself easily across it as if he had not a care in the world and Elrohir watched, as he had always watched, fascinated by his every move.

Then Legolas smiled and it lit the room, banishing all shadows before it.

"So Arwen has been searching where she should not." He grinned. "She has that tendency. I have been on the receiving end of that myself."

But he did not wish to talk of Arwen or even think of her any longer.

"Why are you here?" He asked, changing the subject. "Why are you not with the others—with Aragorn and Gimli?"

Legolas sighed loudly then, and with great drama.

"Aragorn is in a foul mood. I can do nothing right. You would think he was not pleased to see me! I have left him alone until he becomes more reasonable." Legolas paused then, in thought. "Perhaps he has trouble with Arwen also for that always makes him tetchy."

He had to laugh. Did he _really_ have to explain this to him? Surely Legolas could not possibly be this ignorant?

"Estel is angry because, apparently, you disappeared and did not answer his letters. He has been worried about you and now he sees you alive and well the worry turns to anger."

"Aragorn is not my keeper!" Legolas frowned in response.

"But he is your friend and so he worries when he does not hear from you. _I_ was worried when I arrived and you were not here." He explained patiently.

"Exactly when did you get here?" Legolas leaned forward in his chair intently.

"This morning."

"Then I am on time!" He threw his arms wide in exasperation. "We arranged to meet here...and here I am. Why would you worry?"

"I assumed you would be here when I arrived. I presumed—" Legolas cut him off before the words was even fully out of his mouth.

"You should _never_ presume Noldo," he said with a grin, "Not when you are dealing with a wood-elf. You have much to learn. My timing was immaculate today I think."

"Well..." He could not remember now exactly what it was they had arranged but he was _sure_ Legolas had said he would be here...he was sure of it. "Apologise to Estel, at least. You will find he is in a much better mood if you do so. Why have you been avoiding him anyway?"

"Because he would have seen right through me. He is far too perceptive. I am happy, and when I am happy. . . It cannot be contained, and we were to speak to him together—I decided to lay low until you arrived here."

It did make sense—of a kind.

But Legolas fixed him with an intense look then, a look that searched to his core as effectively as Arwen's probing had.

"But you are not." He said eventually, leaning back and folding his arms.

"I am not what?" The change of topic had left him stranded and struggling to catch up.

"You are not happy. What is wrong?"

There it was again, that forthright bluntness. For once he wished for something different, more subtle, less confrontational. He had no option but honesty for Legolas would never fall for any deception he could manage.

"I have realised I will lose my sister."

And Legolas frowned, brows meeting together in perplexion.

"That is not new. You have known that for some time."

"It _is_ new! Until now I believed that possibly it would not happen. I may mirror her choice, but now. . ."

"You blame me for it."

"No." How he could explain this? Every word that entered his head was the wrong one.

"Perhaps you wish you had never met me?"

"No!" But he had thought that, just moments ago, before Legolas arrived. How could he possibly know that?

"Now what then? Go on Elrohir. Tell me what it is you wish to say." Legolas' voice was strangely cool, and his unwavering gaze piercing. He _had_ to make him understand. . . Somehow.

"Now. . . If I follow you. . .It will be _forever_ Legolas and it breaks my heart."

" _If_ I follow you? Really? I know it will be forever Elrohir. And if I sail and you chose mortality _that_ will be forever also. Does _that_ break your heart?"

"She is my sister Legolas! This is hard." He was pleading he knew, and it seemed to have no effect for Legolas was cold as ice now. His face hard and shuttered.

"I see." He watched, helpless as Legolas pulled himself to his feet. This was not what he wanted. It was _not. "_ I think I should go now. I think you no longer want me here, Noldo." There it was again. The change of the term of endearment into an insult. He had heard that before today.

"I do!" He reached out in desperation. "I do want you here, Legolas. I have missed you."

But Legolas turned on his heels and walked away. Stopping briefly to glance back towards him as he reached the door.

"I think perhaps you have not missed me enough, Elrohir. Perhaps I will make your choice easier and remove myself. Then you will not have to choose at all."

"No!" He leapt to his feet in alarm. "No, Legolas!"

But it was too late.

He was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

He slept late.

When he woke, sun streamed through the window and the birds were singing. He had even missed breakfast by his reckoning. Why had Elladan not woken him? Or Legolas? . . . Well perhaps not Legolas after last night.

He should find him and apologise, he thought to himself as he dressed. He needed to make this right, it was a misunderstanding after all. But finding him was a harder job than he had anticipated.

He was not in his rooms, nor in the gardens or any of the green places he searched. There was no sign of a Woodelf to be found. His next option was to climb up to the heights of the city, Legolas' second favourite place.

Before he did that he might try the training grounds. He was not in the mood to go traipsing up endless steps all to no avail. He would exhaust all his options around the palace first, he thought, before he ventured there.

His brothers were there before him, leaning companionably against the fence that surrounded the ground. They were watching someone and when he arrived he realised it should have been obvious to him who that would be.

"Elrohir! What time do you call this?" He hated it when Elladan was in the right. He could be so condescending.

"Why did you not wake me?" he scowled.

"I thought Legolas would do that." Elladan waved an arm towards the figure on the grounds. It was Legolas, of course it was, and the display of archery he was giving them was mesmerising in both its agility and accuracy.

But why had Elladan done that? Suggested Legolas would be involved in his sleeping arrangements, in front of Estel. Did he want them to be discovered? Elrohir gave his twin a quick, surreptitious kick on the ankle. But his brother did not evn give him the satisfaction of flinching.

"You should never rely on Legolas to wake you up, Elrohir. His timekeeping is appalling." Estel was matter of fact in his advice. Thank goodness he seemed to see nothing untoward in Elladan's comment.

"Especially when he is in as bad a mood as he seems today." he continued.

And when Elrohir took the time to actually look at Legolas, he could fully understand that observation.

Every arrow sent spiralling towards the target was a bolt of anger. They thudded into place with a whack that stung his ears. Legolas' posture, his very being, all spoke of his fury. He was a tense, coiled, spring.

As they watched he threw down his bow and stalked towards his spent arrows, yanking them from where they had settled with increasing rage.

"I do not know what has upset him." Estel said conversationally, "but I hope it wasn't me."

And Elrohir knew exactly who it was.

It seemed Legolas had had enough, then, of tormenting the targets. He threw his bow aside and they watched with curiosity as he disappeared into the weapons master's shed, only to reappear shortly after, two swords in his hands. He was all casual nonchalance as he strode towards them, twirling a sword in his hand as he did so. His eyes were on Elrohir and those eyes were filled with a fire that laced his heart with ice.

"Oh he is dangerous today!" Estel sounded almost nervous, "and he has his eye on _you_ Elrohir. What have you done?"

He did not have the time to answer that even had he wished to.

"Spar with me." Legolas stood before him, a sword held out of front of him with the obvious expectation Elrohir would take it.

"What?" He played for time, for the chance to find a way out of this. It was not a good idea, this was _so_ not a good idea at all.

"Spar with me. Show me what you are made of Noldo. Or do I frighten you?"

He did not know whether it was the use of his heritage against him or the suggestion of cowardice but suddenly he was determined. He would not walk away from this.

"You do not frighten me, Legolas. Why would you? You are only one Woodelf after all." He should not stoke the fire, he knew that. But it was Legolas who challenged him, he was only answering in kind.

And so he took the sword when he knew that he should not.

It was a good sword, heavy and solid in his hand. The sunlight glinted off the blade lighting the edge as it did so and Elrohir recoiled in horror.

"This is not a practice blade!" The edge was sharp and deadly, he could see it now.

"Of course not!" Legolas was disdainful, he scorned him. "We are not novices. We do not need blunted weapons. It is common to spar with real weapons in _my_ home if you are good enough...perhaps you doubt your skill Elrohir?"

It was a red rag to a bull. He would not bow down to this. He would not show weakness, no matter how insane the situation had become.

"I doubt nothing." He snarled, "Let us do this."

"Elrohir. . . " Estel grabbed at his sleeve as he moved away. "This is a bad idea. Do not do this, you do not know him. . . "

"I _do_ know him!" He spat through gritted teeth as he threw off his brothers hand and walked away. He would do this, he would get it over with. Legolas would not challenge him in front of those he loved again.

"So—" Legolas stood in front of him, his smile a dangerous thing. No longer did it light the world with brightness. Instead it made him look feral and wild. Casually he tossed his sword hand to hand as if he had no cares at all.

"Who ever draws first blood wins? I think that is fair."

"I do not wish to draw any blood from you!" This was spiralling out of control, Elrohir thought. Rushing away from him with a rapidity that confused him. He was unsure how he had ended up here at all and he had no idea how to stop it.

"I am talking about a nick, Elrohir, a scratch. That is all. It is our way. . . But if it scares you? . . ."

He was goading him intentionally now and Elrohir knew it. And yet he could not resist. He could not find it within himself to simply walk away from this powderkeg of emotion. Though all his instincts screamed at him to leave he could not.

"As you wish." he raised his sword and hoped he could control this. He was experienced, he was skilled, he had nothing to fear.

Legolas came at him like a whirlwind. It was totally unexpected and he found himself on the back foot from the beginning. He had seen him fight of course, many times before. He knew how fast, how lithe, how dangerous he could be. He had never been on the receiving end himself.

He could match him. He was highly skilled and fast but it was hard and he found himself sorely tested.

The blows kept coming. There was no time to breathe as Legolas twisted and spun around him. He was forced further and further back.

"Legolas!" He gasped, his breath hard to come by, as they stood, blades locked together and his lover glared at him. "Stop this. I know you are angry with me but this is not the way for us to solve our differences."

"You think you can play games with my heart, Noldo? I am _not_ your plaything." Elrohir was confronted with flashing eyes, glinting teeth and pain, so much pain.

"I play no games!" He cried and he took a step back as Legolas advanced. Then he felt the first curls of real fear.

"I _warned_ you!" Legolas hissed. "I told you if you could not give what I asked then do not pretend to give it. You said you loved me. You said you _chose_ me. I took down my walls for you. Did you laugh behind my back as you toyed with me?"

"I have never laughed at you Legolas!" Suddenly he realised how deep his clumsy words the night before had hurt. "I do love you."

"You lie!"

And he saw with horror the streaks of tears running down his lover's face. Legolas was crying.

Then, before he drew breath, he was upon him again. Twisting, twirling, confusing him with his speed, with movements that were like nothing he had seen before and he stumbled beneath them.

"Stop this!" The cry came from Estel, but they did not stop, they did not listen. Elrohir because he could not without risking himself, and Legolas because he did not want to.

They were lost within their conflict.

"Legolas! Elrohir! Cease this now. You forget yourselves!" His brothers voice was urgent and forceful, much nearer now than before. He moved towards them and that unexpected nearness made Elrohir startle, made him glance to see just how close Estel was.

And so did Legolas. He turned, surprised to hear his friend so near, Estel's voice drawing him out of his fury.

And so the blow Elrohir had expected did not come. The sword he had raised his own to meet was not there. So his own blade fell, unmet, unmatched, until it met resistance.

The slice of metal through flesh jolted him out of his moment of inattention. The cry of his silvan lover tore his soul. He dropped his sword but too late, far too late.

And Legolas fell to the ground.

Still, quiet, bleached of his anger, his blood seeping on to the grass below him.

Elrohir was numb with shock.

He did not mean this. He had not wanted this.

What had he done?

What had he done?


	5. Chapter 5

What had he done?

"Legolas!" He fell to his knees, pulled his love towards him, struggling to see the damage. Damage wrought by his own hand. Blood spilled in a river of red, over his hands as he fumbled.

But Legolas would have none of it and pushed him away with a snarl.

"Get off me." The words were said through teeth gritted in pain and they struck his heart like a dagger.

"I am sorry, I am sorry," he said it over and over and yet it was not enough.

And then Aragorn was there.

Aragorn the King of Men, the friend of Legolas, the Healer. Not Estel the fatherless child, brother to Elrohir, not him.

He could only watch as Aragorn gathered Legolas to him, cradled him in his arms with care and put pressure on his wound. Towards himself, all he felt was a wall of bitter anger.

"What were you doing? You are fools both of you. Fools! What is behind this?" He may have addressed them both but it was to Elrohir he spat the ice cold words.

"It was nothing." Legolas answered before he could speak, before Elrohir could spill his regret and confess all to his brother. "An accident, Aragorn. Only that." his voice was tired, empty, drained of life, and Aragorn sighed.

"Nothing? And what is this Legolas?" He wiped his free hand clear of blood and lifted it to gently brush away the tears upon the Silvan's cheeks. "What is this?"

"Nothing. I told you, nothing." Legolas' breath came in short gasps between the words and Elrohir could hardly catch what it was he said, so softly did he utter it. He was pale, white, agonised—would Estel not stop this questioning and help him?

"Have it your way." His brother eventually replied but the words were soft and gentle, tender even, and Elrohir imagined that he smiled when he spoke them.

Then suddenly Elladan was there and they were surrounded by a circle of anxious Men. He was pushed away, away from Legolas by those who would help him, not harm him and the Men watched Elrohir warily as if they guarded something dangerous, something uncontrollable. As if he was a criminal waiting to be charged.

And in the end he was isolated. Aragorn did not speak to him again, and as much as he yearned to he could not get so much as a glimpse of Legolas behind the turned backs of his brothers. He was outside the circle as they took Legolas away and the Men, shuffling awkwardly, turned from him and went back to their business leaving him sitting, bereft on the grass.

Only Elladan remained, clothes and hands bloodstained, and he gazed down at Elrohir with disapproval.

"Brother, you are such a fool."

"Yes," he spat back with resentment and bitterness, "Estel has already pointed that out to me. Not that he needed to." He did not want to have this discussion. He knew he could not have made more of a mess of things than this. He did not need his brother to tell him.

There was only one thing he needed to know.

"How bad is it?"

"He will live." Elladan sank to the ground beside him and threw an arm across his shoulders. Nothing had ever felt so reassuring and calming as his twins acceptance. "It is a nice deep cut Brother. You did a good job of that, and he has lost much blood, but it is better than an Orc wound. I am sure he has survived worse."

"I feel like an Orc." He did indeed feel truly wretched.

"Well, your blade is much cleaner." Elladan smiled, "Do not stress so Elrohir. Estel will stitch him up and with a little sleep he will be as good as new."

Elladan turned to him then, face serious.

"So tell me what went wrong? What was this about? Yesterday, when he arrived Legolas' face lit up like a lantern when he saw you. Today he is attempting to cut you to pieces. He was obviously angry—why did you agree to spar when the two of you are at odds? You know better than that Elrohir!"

"Why must you assume this is my fault?" He was suddenly and unreasonably defensive.

"Well, is it?" His brother gave him a look. The kind of look he could not resist. The exact mirror of the one his father had always used to get information out of him during their childhood.

"Arwen is here. . . " he struggled to find the right words to explain the catastrophe that had come between him and Legolas. "And it is hard. . . It is hard to realise I will actually lose her. If I could only find a way to have it all—but I cannot."

And Elladan looked at him with deep unhappiness.

"Oh Elrohir, tell me you have not told him that you doubt your choice! You could not possibly be so cruel as that."

"I didn't. . . I didn't," he cried, although in truth he could not remember exactly what it was he had said. He rushed to try and justify himself.

"Arwen has hoped we would choose to stay with her, that we would choose mortality and the three of us would not need to be sundered. She has wished for that. She told me! If I choose Legolas I deny her that."

" _If_ you choose Legolas? You have already chosen him Elrohir. You can not turn your back on that. What are you thinking? He is the best thing that has happened to you for years. The way he looks at you. . . What I would give to have someone look at me with so much love. You would throw that away? For what?"

"For our _sister,_ for our sister and for you."

"Do not use me as an excuse for your vacillations!" Elladan was suddenly very angry. "And Arwen has made her own choice, she has no right to wish for anything from us!"

"I will leave her. _We_ will leave her and it will be my fault." He could not understand Elladan's ire. He did not even like Legolas!

"She has left _us,_ brother." Elladan dropped his voice low and he could feel the fury within it. "She made the choice. She chose her love and she can _not_ deprive you of yours. She had every right to choose as she did and I do not hold it against her but she has _no_ right to expect we will do anything other than live our own lives. If they take us away from her so be it. The fault for that lies at her feet not yours— and not Legolas'"

"You do not even like him Elladan! You say he stole your choice from you. Your resentment is so obvious."

"Did he steal my choice, Elrohir? Or did he free me to make one?"

He wondered then if his brother had somehow lost his mind for that statement made no sense to him.

"Free you how? Elladan that makes no sense."

"Free me by lifting the burden of your choice off my shoulders. By letting me truly decide for myself where I want to be. I no longer have to worry about anyone but me, Elrohir, and I have discovered that is exhilarating."

"You would not follow me? You would chose to sunder us forever!" It was a horrifying thought. One that made him sick to his stomach. One that had never entered his head for he simply could not imagine it.

"Elrohir," Elladan pulled him towards him so he leaned up against him, sheltered him against his side. "Do you not think—if this is truly the place for me—if my heart sung to stay here, that I would? It does not. I want to see our Mother, I want to see our Father once more. The song of Men has ever called to you far more clearly than it does to me. This is not my place any longer. I used to worry you may choose mortality and then I would be trapped between my love for you and my true self, but no longer. Arwen has her love, you have yours and I am free to be Elladan. I no longer resent Legolas taking my choice, I thank him for it. In fact I _have_ thanked him for it."

He was astonished but at the same time so relieved. To know that Elladan would follow him, that Elladan was happy to do so, That it was what _he_ wanted...he felt a burst of pure joy at the thought of his brothers freedom.

"But why your antagonism, Elladan? It is constant. Why that?" He was sure he had not imagined that.

"I am angry at your subterfuge. The injustice you do to Estel, for I know how that will hurt him. The both of you will hurt him with your lies. And he will find you out, Elrohir. . . After this debacle, sooner rather than later."

"Ai, It is a mess Elladan. All a mess and I do not know how to fix it." he cried, for Elladan was right, he _would_ hurt his brother, had already hurt Legolas, and there was no getting around it.

And Elladan took his face between his hands as he spoke.

"You will go to Estel and tell him everything, and if he is angry you will face that. Because he has every right to be. And then when Legolas is calm and will see you, you will explain how pressure from our sister clouded your mind. You will tell him you do not doubt your choice, that there is no other choice for you. That he burns a fire across your heart and there is no one else, will never be anyone else and he will forgive you."

"How can he forgive me this" Elrohir flung his arms towards the puddle of blood which lay seeping into the ground.

"Because he loves you, brother. I know because he has told me so, but I did not need to hear his words. It is written all over his face.

"He will forgive you because he loves you."

But Elrohir was not so sure. Legolas was not someone you could predict, he was wild, changeable and surprising. Who knew how he would react to this?

Who knew if this was a hurdle they could not conquer?


	6. Chapter 6

**Aragorn**

He tried to warn his brother when Legolas invited Elrohir to spar with him, in fact it was more of an order than an invitation. The Silvan oozed anger from every pore. Every movement was a threat, every word he spoke screamed danger to Aragorn's ears. What Elrohir had done, he had no idea, there had never been animosity between the two of them before, but it was obvious he had done _something!_

But Elrohir did not know Legolas like _he_ knew him. He seemed not to see all the warning signs and shrugged Aragorn off roughly when he tried to make him see sense and stop this insanity before it began.

As he predicted, it all turned out terribly badly.

Legolas attacked his brother with a ferocity that startled him, for what had caused this? It startled Elrohir as well it seemed, for he was on the back foot from the start and rapidly losing ground despite the fact he was probably the best with the sword.

"What is this?" He asked Elladan beside him, "What has caused this? What has Elrohir done?"

"In truth, I have no idea." his brother shook his head slowly, a frown upon his face. "All seemed well between them yesterday. Who knows what the fool has done now. He has no idea how to manage this, he is in over his head."

"Manage what?" Something about Elladan's answer set off alarm bells in his brain, "What is there he needs to manage with Legolas?"

And Elladan did not blink when he answered smoothly,

"Manage this obviously, Estel. Does he not look all at sea to you?" Despite the quickness of the response, or perhaps because of it, he did not quite believe it to be as simple as that.

Elladan pushed himself back off the fence they had been leaning against then, suddenly decisive.

"We have to put an end to this Estel, before this pair of idiots damage each other."

Certainly it looked that way, the blows were more ferocious by the minute. It would only end in tears and the spilling of Elven blood if they did not intervene.

He should have known better than taking them unawares, but what choice did he have? To step inbetween them was not a very palatable thought. But as he strode towards them raising his voice as he did so they both turned to look at him, both distracted, and so Legolas held his attack. He did not strike the blow Elrohir was expecting and Aragorn could only watch horrified as Elrohir's blade swung, unblocked, into the wood-elf's side.

And Legolas fell like a stone.

It was then he ran.

He was angry when he reached them. Angry with himself and angry with the both of them for their foolishness that had in the end seen his friend hurt. He did not hold back in telling them so, but Legolas was bleeding copiously from his side, in pain and distressed though he struggled not to show it. There were tears upon his face and Aragorn wondered what they meant as he wiped them away. What _was_ all this about?

If he thought it would be easy getting to the bottom of it he was wrong.

Legolas, when he finally got him back to his rooms to assess the damage, was at his most uncooperative. Sullen and silent, he would answer no questions and Aragorn was forced to give in and hold his peace for fear of being banished from the room altogether before he had even laid hands on his friend which would not be at all helpful. Instead he sighed in frustration as he began the delicate task of stitching Legolas back together.

And so they sat in silence as he sewed, over and over, one stitch after another. Silence only broken by the barely audible hiss of pain from his friend each time his needle broke the skin.

"At least his blade was clean." Eventually the silence was to heavy to be borne and Aragorn was forced to speak. He could tolerate it no longer. "This will heal quickly, before you know it, Legolas. You will not even have a scar to remind you of your foolishness."

"It will never heal."

He looked up, startled at that, for it was so patently wrong, and there was something about Legolas' voice when he spoke. . . the voice of someone breaking under a weight of pain.

"Of course it will." He frowned at his friend in consternation, there was something here, something that hovered just out of his reach. "It is a simple wound Legolas, you will be miserable for a few days certainly but then, all will be well again. It is not like you to over-exaggerate."

Legolas did not rise to the bait. He did not rail against the suggestion he was anything less than a wall of strength as Aragorn would have expected.

"He has destroyed me."

The devastation in those words was absolute.

"He has destroyed me, Aragorn. There is no way back from this."

Gently he put down his tools, reached up and grasped his friends hands between his own.

"Tell me what you mean. He has not destroyed you. This is nothing. An argument amongst friends, an accident. He did not mean to inflict this upon you. You can easily forgive him this, Legolas."

What was he missing here?

But Legolas looked away, though his face was grief-stricken and his eyes filled with the glint of unshed tears as he turned his head , his voice when he did speak was clipped and harsh.

"Have you finished? Have you done what needs doing so you can leave me alone?"

"I do not think I want to leave you alone."

And then he was met with all the heat of a angry silvan temper.

"I do not care what you want. I do not want you here, or your Brothers. Did you laugh behind my back with him when he played his games?"

And with that the battered Woodelf pushed Aragorn away, spilling surgical implements across the floor as he pulled himself to sit. Arm cradling his side while his chest heaved with emotion—sadness, anger, just what else was there, Aragorn wondered? He watched with despair the blood ooze through his friends fingers as the sutures he had so carefully placed strained to hold and he moved to take control. This had gone far enough.

"No!" He threw all the authority he could muster behind that one word in the hope of restoring some sense to the situation. "Calm yourself Legolas and explain. I have no idea what you speak of but I will not stand back and allow you to damage yourself further. You will tell me what goes on and cease attempting to confuse me with riddles!"

And he threw his arms around his friend, the wild, chaotic, enigmatic, creature whose composure flew to the wind in front of him. He drew him close and held him tight against his chest, he would not let him run, he would not let him flee to the trees while his side bled and his soul obviously did also. He held him tight for he expected a fight, a raging, furious, tussle for control and surprise was his only advantage.

But he received no resistance, the golden head sank against his shoulder, the lithe body collapsed against his own,

"He has taken my heart and ground it into dust" Legolas gasped.

And then the shutters went down. The walls went up. That was the end of it and he could make no further progress against them.

There was no response as he gently, carefully, finished his administrations, sealed the wound and dressed it with care. Legolas had erected his defences and now he retreated behind them. Silent, still, and completely absent, he responded to no more of Aragorn's cautious tendrils of comfort.

Even the wild anger was better than this.

In the end he was saved from the silence by the dwarf. A highly agitated dwarf banging upon the door as if his life depended on it.

"Let me in, Legolas! What have you been doing you fool? Is this nonsense they are telling me, true? Let me in, damn you, Elf."

"Let him in," it was the softest whisper, but any response was better than none. "Let him in Aragorn. I want to see him."

And Aragorn did not doubt it. Gimli was an anchor for Legolas' soul, a shelter in the dark harbour of the sea, a soothing balm that covered his agitation, and he, himself was getting nowhere.

The dwarf's anxiety filled the room when he entered. It flowed out of his every movement, it hit Aragorn like a wall of tension.

"Is it as bad as they say, Aragorn?" There were no polite introductions.

"I do not know what they say," He smiled, "But it is not so bad, the wound to his side at least. What more goes on here I do not know, for he will not tell me. Perhaps you will do better with that?" Then he paused, "Perhaps you already know?"

He thought that likely.

"What was your brother thinking! Has he lost his mind? What do you intend to do about this Aragorn?" Worry eased, Gimli went on to the attack and Elrohir was well and truly in his sights.

"Since Legolas has not seen fit to tell me his secrets, what do you think I _can_ do?"

"I have _told_ you." The voice from the bed startled him even though he had been expecting it. "I have told you, Aragorn but you will not hear me, as you did not listen before."

In truth he did know now, what was at the core of this, but how long it lasted, how deep it went, what had caused it to fall apart so drastically, that was still a mystery. And why he did not know before. . . Why? That did hurt. It hurt from both of them.

Still now was not the time to confront Legolas with that, or challenge him on any of it.

Instead he softened his voice, reached out in comfort, but also in censure for he would not treat him as a child, for all that he behaved as one.

"I _do_ hear you, Legolas. I have listened, but there is much more I would know and you have told me little. That stings bitterly within my heart. But we will not speak on this now for it will get us nowhere. We _will_ return to this."

He turned to Gimli then,

"Keep him still. Make him behave, for I have no wish to spend any more time treating a stubborn, wilful, ungrateful Silvan. Tie him to the bed if you must, Gimli. You have my permission."

And he left. He needed answers and Legolas would not provide them. Instead he went straight to the one who _would_ give him them. One he _could_ speak in anger to. One he could force to confess.

But his hurt boiled within him

And it burned.


	7. Chapter 7

**Man this chapter was a nightmare to write! And I still don't like it. Apologies ahead of time for its suckiness**

He threw open the door to his brothers room with a resounding crash. It was perhaps overly dramatic but the walk through the corridors had only served to magnify his hurt and at that moment he was burning to retaliate, to let it all spill out at Elrohir's feet.

Elrohir was there, of course, as he had known he would be and startled by the sudden unannounced intrusion, leapt to his feet.

"Estel! How is Legolas? Tell me, please." There was an edge of desperation in his voice. It was a plea, not a question and normally Aragorn would have been filled with empathy but not today.

"He tells me he has a wound which will never heal. He tells me you have destroyed him. What could he mean, Elrohir?" He could almost taste the bitterness in his voice. It dripped with it. He knew what Legolas meant, but would his brother tell him? Would he ever have told him?

"I have not-" Elrohir gasped the words out. They caught within his throat in horror. "I have not destroyed him, have I?" He stared at Aragorn eyes wide, and too late he realised he had not taken the time to change, his clothes were bloodstained, blood soaked would be a more accurate description and as angry as he was he knew that was cruel.

"You have not destroyed him physically. This looks worse than it is. The wound was simple to repair, or would have been if he were more cooperative. But what have you done to his heart Elrohir? And why did you not tell me of the two of you?"

Elrohir was white-faced and silent as he stared back at in horror.

"He misunderstands me." He whispers in the end.

"He _misunderstands_ you? So there is nothing between you and yet he somehow believes you have 'ground his heart into dust'? Legolas is not given to exaggeration, Elrohir, nor mooning around like a heartstruck youth. That is the best you can come up with?"

"That is not what I meant!" He cries, and anger replaces the pale stillness. "Yes there is something between us, yes! Is that what you wish to hear? But he has misunderstood my intentions. We were going to tell you of this, that is why he is here. We were going to tell you!"

"Oh? You were going to tell me? But instead you decided a public brawl with swords was the better option, obviously."

He knew he sounded childish even as he said it but the hurt just spilled out of him, there was no stopping it. Had they thought he would not accept this, is that what it was? Did they think him prejudiced against this as some of his people were? When had he _ever_ given Elrohir reason to think that? Or Legolas?

"That was unwise. . . I know it, and it was not intentional. I did not realise . . . I did not realise how volatile he was." Elrohir continued but it did nothing to lesson Aragorn's resentment.

"And yet I _told_ you! I warned you, Elrohir, that he was in a dangerous mood. Because I _do_ know him."

"Estel-" A gentle hand fell on his shoulder and startled him in the midst of his fury. Why did they insist on being so quiet when they approached him, his brothers. "Elrohir knows he has wronged you. He would not have had you discover it like this, believe me."

It was Elladan, calm peacefulness as he always was soothing troubled waters. But today Aragorn did not wish to hear it. He do not want explanations or justifications. He _wanted_ to be angry. He wanted to cling to his bitterness, His frustration at being left out of something that was obviously important. It was so blatantly obvious this was so very, very, important.

And they had not told him.

"Really?" He poured scorn upon his brothers soft words. "Really? Or would he not have me discover it at all? What do you take me for Elrohir? A bigot? Someone so narrowminded you could not trust me with this?"

And he pushed past Elladan and out through the door. Out to get some space from the two of them. And space from Legolas as well if he were honest. No wonder Legolas had been avoiding Minas Tirith and Aragorn these last few months. No wonder.

He did not get much space at all though, as much as he desired it, for Elladan followed him down the corridor as he strode away.

"Estel! Stop! Stop and listen to me!"

"Leave it Elladan. I am done talking on this. It is between Elrohir and I and none of your business. That is, I presume, you do not see me as being as untrustworthy as he obviously does, but perhaps you do?"

"You are being childish, Estel. You are better than this. I know he has hurt you, believe me I do. I have only just recently discovered this myself and I did not take it calmly. I understand your frustration, but storming off in a tantrum? This helps nothing."

"You have only just discovered it?" He clung to any nugget of information he could get. "When? And how long have they been together behind my back? I cannot believe they have told me nothing . . . And Legolas, I have barely seen him these last weeks. I have been concerned for him, worried about the sea-longing. But he has instead been carrying out a secret flirtation with my brother all this time!"

"Elrohir does not think you untrustworthy. He would trust you with his life." Elladan pointedly ignored his questions which only stoked his anger.

"But he does not trust me with his secrets."

And Elladan sighed then.

"I cannot tell you truly why he felt the need to keep this from us but our choice weighs heavily on our brother, it always has. Can you not understand that? That is what lies at the heart of this. It is a cruel thing, Estel, and Elrohir has never known clearly which way he is drawn—not as Arwen and I do. He wants to lose no one and he cannot have that. Everywhere he turns there is someone he will hurt."

He knew that, he did know it, that Elrohir in particular struggled with his future, though they had not discussed it for years. Not since the arguments that almost splintered them apart after Arwen. . . Aragorn did not wish to think of that time—or his guilt in that.

"What has his choice to do with Legolas?" He was sulky and resentful instead—to cover the churning in his stomach this subject always caused.

"It has to do with _everything_ , Estel!" Elladan's laugh was not a happy one. "It drives our lives, especially since our mother left. When I discovered Legolas and Elrohir in Imladris—because I stumbled across them, not because they told me—Elrohir had made his choice, finally, finally made it. Without thinking of me, which angered me then but now. . . I am glad of that for he is normally so tangled in worry for everyone else there is no room for Elrohir himself. But now our sister has broken his fragile peace and this mess is what we are left with."

"Arwen?" He could not imagine how Arwen could be involved in this. "Do not try to tell me she knew of them Elladan, for I know she did not. I _know_ she would have told me."

"She saw right through them last night, Estel, when Legolas arrived." Elladan smiled at him then. "I cannot for the life of me work out why you did not also for they were a pair of besotted fools. So obvious. But she has told Elrohir she has, all this time, secretly, hoped we would follow her to mortality. To ease her loss, make her choice a better one. How can he choose Legolas when she lays that guilt at his door? How can he follow his heart? I will be speaking to her about this for it is not fair. She has made her choice and that is you. She must leave us to make our own."

It took his breath away, that statement for he did not know. Arwen hoped her brothers would choose mortality also? All this time and that is what she wished for? She had never said, never spoken of it to him. Not even once.

"I should speak to her. I did not know." He was numb with the shock of it.

"Estel," his brother laid a gentle hand upon his arm, "Speak to her by all means if she has never told you this. But as far as Elrohir goes, that is for me to deal with. It is something the three of us need to discuss. I will not have her dictating his decisions to him."

"She would hardly do that!"

"Not deliberately, perhaps, but the end result is that is what she has done and I will be telling her so."

"This is less about me than I thought." Aragorn dropped his head in dismay, " Or perhaps, it is all about me. Without me Arwen have no need to hold on to hope to keep you close. I already am to blame for Legolas' sea-longing . . . now I bring this upon him as well?"

The thought of the sealonging tore at his heart, his wild silvan friend was changed beyond all measure and he was the one who caused it. Now he piled more grief on top of it? It did not seem fair—to either of them.

"This is not your fault, Estel. It is our problem, Arwen, Elrohir and I. As for Legolas, his pain is down to Elrohir and no-one else. He can be a fool, my brother, and he has never done this before. He has no clue. He bumbled in with clumsy words and did not stop to think what Legolas would make of them."

"He has never done this before? What do you mean by that?"

"Have you not noticed how closely he guards his heart?"

He had not. Or perhaps he had, but he certainly had not dwelt in it.

"He has never let anyone in." Elladan continued, "Never, in all his years, not once, for fear of becoming trapped, for fear of it meaning a choice foistered upon him. What spell Legolas has cast on him I do not know! But now, it means he is hopeless at this. He does not know how to speak to Legolas with care, he does not know how things can be so easily misinterpreted when you are in love. He thrashes around inside their relationship like a blind man. He has a lot to learn, Estel! "

And now he thought on it he realised that yes, as long as he had known him, Elrohir had had no one, nor had he heard rumours or stories of anyone else in the past.

"I had never given it thought, Elladan, but you are right."

"Of course I am right! He is my brother. Who knows him better than I? And he is an idiot, at least where Legolas is concerned. It will be my

mission to help him learn to be less casual, less unintentionally cruel."

"And you know better?" Aragorn asked for suddenly he realised he could not remember rumours of Elladan regarding love either. "How would that be Elladan?"

But all he received was a knowing smile, and no more information than that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Elrohir**

He was trapped. Caught in a vice and he could not get out. Legolas on one side and Arwen on the other. Why had he let himself fall into this situation? What had he been thinking?

Pain on all sides and no clear path out, it was his worst nightmare.

Still he was not short of courage and he faced his demons. He always had done. And so he took himself to Legolas' room to talk. . . or at least to try to. He had no confidence when he knocked on the door that he would actually be allowed in. It he had to try.

"Ah," It was the dwarf who answered, his face grim. "I wondered if it might be you. I doubt he will see you."

"Will you ask for me, Gimli? Tell him I am sorry. I never had any wish to hurt him."

"And yet it seems you have." He did not expect any sympathy from the dwarf, he was Legolas' closest friend after all. "Stay here, I will ask." And the door slammed in his face.

He was not left waiting long there in the corridor before the dwarf returned, not long enough for any meaningful discussion to have occurred.

"He asks you to go away. He does not want you here." Elrohir expected no less really. Still he was not that easily defeated and perhaps it was time for Legolas to learn that.

"You can tell him then that I will wait." He said folding his arms across his chest to show he meant business. "I will wait here until he sees sense and lets me in."

"Do not be so foolish!" Gimli cried, "You have no idea how stubborn a creature he is. You will be sitting here for hours to no avail. He does not like being challenged."

"Well he had best get used to being challenged by me for I am not so easily manipulated, and I am stubborn myself. A few hours will not bother me, I am an elf after all. I can sleep where I stand and go days without food, although I am sure Estel will provide me some." Then he sat down on the stone floor, a picture of resistance.

"I will just sit here until he lets me in. Tell him that."

The dwarf looked at him with pity in his eyes and sighed—a long heavy sigh.

"What have I done to deserve this." he muttered. "Why I continue to spend time with this uncontrollable elf I do not know. He is surely more trouble than he is worth." He turned to re-enter the room, glancing down at Elrohir as he did so.

"Your determination is admirable." he said. "But I do not think you will have much success, still I will tell him for you. Do not hold your breath for a reply though." And then he was gone, back behind the heavy door.

Sure enough he did not emerge again, and Elrohir was left sitting against the wall on the cold floor. It was most uncomfortable but he was undeterred. He would not back down, he would wait all the day and the night if need be. Perhaps Legolas needed to understand he was no pushover—and that his love was serious.

Still it was not long before he wished he had bought a cushion.

"Elrohir?" He was startled out of his contemplation by his brothers querying voice. "What are you doing here?"

He was not sure how long it had been, boredom had turned his mind to daydreams, mostly of Legolas—in Imladris and on the quest in those days when he had surreptitiously watched him from afar. Now he opened his eyes to find, not the silvan, but his young foster brothers brown eyes peering at him.

"Waiting for Legolas to let me in."

He was unaccountably nervous speaking to Estel. He knew he had hurt him deeply, and he had been furious when he saw him last—storming off, Elladan following right behind him. Elladan had told him he thought Estel understood when he returned, that his mood had mellowed—but still. . . Elrohir worried the anger might remain.

Estel looked down at him, head tilted to the side in a way that reminded him so strongly of Legolas's look when he was curious.

"He will not see you then?" He did not seem angry at all; there was no discernible tension in his voice at least.

"Ha. . . Does it look like it Brother?" Elrohir waved a hand to indicate his position on the floor. "Can I just say your floors are not the most comfortable."

"Well they are not meant for sitting on, as a rule. How long have you been here?" There was the smallest of smiles on Estel's face now and Elrohir felt the anxiety inside himself begin to ebb away ever so slightly.

"I have lost track of time," he sighed, "A few hours perhaps? The dwarf is in there. He tells me I am a fool. It seems to be a rather common opinion to have of me today."

Estel bent towards him then placing his hand on Elrohir's shoulder, firmly.

"I will see what I can do for you." his voice was solemn, without teasing. "He can be obstinate so I promise nothing—still, I will tell him he does not yet know how obstinate _you_ can be!"

It was an apology, a vote of support, a sign all was improved between them. Estel had forgiven him.

"Thank you."

The relief washed over him. At least he still had Estel. He may have lost Legolas but Estel still loved him.

The wait was interminable. Minutes past and Estel did not emerge, in fact in the end it was the dwarf who emerged when the door finally opened.

"Aragorn has moved mountains," he said gruffly as he peered down at Elrohir, "He has succeeded where I failed. He has gained you an opportunity. My advice would be not to waste it for you will not get another."

And so Elrohir stumbled to his feet. Legs numb and clumsy from the long time spent upon the cold stone floor.

"I will not waste it."

"You had better not," the dwarf mumbled as he pushed past. "Do not prove me wrong to allow this."

The door swung open behind him, showing a glimpse into the room although of Legolas there was no sign. For a terrible moment Elrohir hesitated. . .could he _do_ this?

What choice did he have?

Estel stood by the bed when he entered and Legolas lay there, face turned resolutely away. It was obvious he would get no help from Legolas at all in this. He was on his own.

"Elrohir is here." There was a tension in Estel's voice as he spoke. "Remember what I said and behave. Do I have to stay here to ensure you do not come to blows yet again?"

The reply was an unintelligible grunt.

"I will take that as reassurance you have decided to act your age." Estel turned towards him finally raising eyebrows as he did so. "Good luck brother," he murmered as he passed, "You will need it I think. Do not let him move and tear my sutures yet again! " For the last his voice was raised and pointed, so Legolas could not help but hear.

And he left.

He left and all was silent, and Elrohir wished he could have stayed.

Did he stand or sit? Did he fall upon his knees in apology? Was he welcome at _all?_ His legs were heavy as stone as he moved closer to Legolas' determined, stubborn, presence upon the bed.

"I am sorry." In the end it was all he could think of to say and it was so very, very, inadequate. He recieved no reply.

"I am so very sorry, Legolas. I did not mean this. I would never hurt you. I...I feel sick at the thought of this." He was not sure how long he could continue talking into silence.

 _"You_ feel sick?" The voice that finally answered him was bitter, laced with pain and anger like a poison. "I do not feel well myself in case you have not noticed."

He had reached the bedside and still Legolas did not turn towards him. Still he did not look. Memories of that smile the night before, a smile lit for Elrohir alone, a smile which filled his heart until he was alive with it, flitted through his mind. That smile was far from him now.

His hand reached out despite himself, drawn to those white bandages wrapped around his lover's chest. He had done this. _He_ had hurt him. And he traced across them, slowly gently, fingers sweeping softly almost to the uncovered skin. How he longed to touch it.

But he did not.

"I am sorry." He voice cracked with the guilt and grief. Why could he think of nothing else than that to say? "If I could take it back...if I could hold my stroke...I would. I did not want this, Legolas. I did not."

But there was no softening and no forgiveness although green eyes, flashing, did turn themselves on him and he was pinned to the spot by that angry silvan gaze.

"And _still_ you do not understand, Elrohir. The wound is the _least_ of it. It is not that which hurts me."

"Legolas..." He wanted to tell him how broken he felt inside. How hurt and torn in pieces. How the loss of Arwen filled his mind but the loss of Legolas was worse. Oh so much worse. But he had no words. In the end he said again what he had answered to Estel when he raged.

"You misunderstand me."

"No!" The words were vicious. They cut like a knife as Legolas intended them to. " _You_ misunderstand." You misunderstand my love. You misunderstand my heart. You see someone wild, untamed, exotic to your eyes, someone less than you, and you think you can treat me badly. You think you can toss me aside and it will not hurt. Well I tell _you,_ Elrohir. it _does_ hurt. It hurts so badly I cannot breathe."

He wanted to comfort. He wanted so badly to take Legolas in his arms, to smooth his pain, to ease his wounds, to tell him of his love. But his arms would not move. His words would not be spoken. His grief rose up within him and strangled his voice before he could speak a word.

There was nothing he could do.


	9. Chapter 9

There was a chair beside the bed and he sank into it while Elladan's words swirled through the tangle that was inside his head.

 _"You will explain how pressure from our sister clouded your mind. You will tell him you do not doubt your choice, that there is no other choice for you. That he burns a fire across your heart and there is no one else, will never be anyone else and he will forgive you."_

But Legolas would not hear him. How would he ever forgive him?

He stroked the hair that spilled across the pillow, soft, smooth, silky as it slipped though his fingers; threads of gold.

"Do not _touch_ me!" It was a hiss of pain, but Legolas did not withdraw—despite his angry words—his head fell into Elrohir's touch so he continued. The fall of hair, golden strands of beauty, mesmerised him, it eased his mind, it opened a door and the words—so difficult to find before—spilled out.

"I was not careful enough." He began, "and Arwen is too clever. For you walked into the hall and set my heart on fire, and she saw it. She saw it, how could she not? And she . . . " He paused for breath. The thought of his sisters grief hurt him so badly. "She has hoped Elladan and I would follow her. She has made her choice and she loves Estel but in the back of her mind she has thought we may still be together, and I have crushed that. I have destroyed her hope, _I_ have done that. _Me._ I told her I have not yet made my choice because I did not want to see her pain, but it is not true for I have chosen _you._ Nothing will change that. Nothing will ever change that. But what do I do, Legolas? What do I do? I have always protected her and now I hurt her. What do I do?"

Silence followed like a weight that crushed the air out of his lungs. A silence full of pain and accusation, a silence that scared him and drenched his heart in ice.

"I do not know what to do," he gasped, and that heart broke.

He did not know he wept until the hand, slender and soft brushed across his cheeks.

"Hush," the sweet and lilting voice was gentle now. A cushion he could fall into. A bandage for his soul. "Hush, Noldo. I will help you. We do this _together._ You are not alone."

"I am a fool," he whispered for he deserved no comfort from one he had harmed.

"But you are _my_ fool. And I bear the scars to prove it."

"I can never forgive myself for that." He stared at those white bandages, the symbol of his mistake, until he could not stand it and his gaze fell to the floor beside him.

"There is nothing for you to forgive. _I_ was the one who chose unblunted weapons. I allowed myself to look away when I should not have. I am a warrior, Elrohir, who should have known better. What chance did you have to avoid me?"

But he could not meet those eyes and he could not rid himself of the guilt. He had begun this—although now in the daylight he was not sure how—and his love had lain bleeding by _his_ hand.

"Look at me." A hand reached out to cup his cheek, and gently, gently, tilt it until he gazed at a pair of serious green eyes, for Legolas had pulled himself up to reach him.

"Do you love me, Erohir?"

"Yes." He answered in a breath, "yes I love you."

"Did you speak true in Imladris? Do you choose this? If it is not what you wish speak now and I will let you go. It will tear me apart but I will do it . . . For you."

"I choose this." He did not hesitate, he did not stop to think. His heart knew what he wanted and it claimed it.

And Legolas took his hand in his, pressed it against those bandages that now adorned his chest.

"You hold my heart, Noldo. Be careful not to drop it, for if you do it will not bounce. It will break. You need to know, I am not as strong as I appear when it comes to you."

"I will never let you go. It was never that. It was never about that."

"I am not without courage." Legolas leaned in against him then, allowed him to hold his weight, a hug of sorts. "I have faced the dark and won. I have looked my death in the face before the Black Gate, I have fought the nazgul and defeated fear. But oh Elrohir, I have been afraid—I _am_ afraid—of losing you. It has haunted me in the night these weeks we have been apart, that you would see sense in my absence and what we had would be gone."

He had had no idea. Legolas was cocky, confident, certain. _He_ was the one who was unsure, _he_ was the one who was afraid. Not Legolas.

"See sense?" He echoed as he stroked the head that lay upon his shoulder. "What do you mean?"

"See that I am a wild silvan you cannot tame and realise you do not want to. See I will never fit in to Imladris or your family, or your life. See there is someone better out there for you than me."

"There is _no-one_ better out there for me. I do not _want_ to tame you for I love your wildness. You _are_ my life."

And he saw, as if someone had drawn him a map what had happened here. If only he had known this. If _only._

 _"_ And so when you arrived here, you felt my anger with Arwen and thought—"

"I thought the nightmare may well be a reality. When I came to you in your room last night you were distracted, uncertain, I could _feel_ your worry and unhappiness. I knew you had regrets..."

"I have _no_ regrets."

But that wasn't exactly true. He _had_ wished he had never been faced with this decision—briefly—but he _had_ wished it.

"I let my fear rule me," Legolas continued. "and it tore me up and spat me out, and you along with me."

"You do not trust me." It was a sudden realisation and a harsh one.

"I do trust you. But I do not trust that you know what you want."

And he realised all his uncertainty, his worry, his reluctance to commit to the longing in his heart, had left his lover without a platform of surety to stand on. He had overestimated Legolas' confident nature and now they both paid the price.

"I _know_ what I want. I know it, Legolas. Please do not doubt it. But Arwen... I do not want to cause her pain...and I have, I will."

And Legolas leaned himself back against the pillows, removing the comfort of his warmth from Elrohir's side.

"Arwen is your responsibility no longer." he said and there was an edge to his voice as he said it. "She has made her own choice. Her happiness lies in Aragorn's hands now...not yours. She has not been fair to you, I think."

It was what Elladan had said to him as well.

"I am beginning to realise that. We will have to talk; she and I...and Elladan."

A hand reached out for his own. Pale slender fingers entwined through his.

"You must let her go." Legolas sighed softly. "For your own sake, Elrohir. You must hand her over to Aragorn and love her from afar. She is your small sister no longer, and is more than capable of looking after herself. I know it is hard but she would not wish you to sacrifice your life for her. Whatever she has said to you, she would not wish that."

He could not understand it. Where had the anger gone? That red hot anger that had greeted him when he arrived. For it seemed to have vanished in an instant, evaporated into nothing.

He had to try and work this out. No longer could he ride along the wild ride that was Legolas without knowing what was beneath the surface. For it was obvious now, as open as he might seem there _was_ much beneath the surface.

"Why are you not angry? Where did it go? I do not understand you sometimes Legolas...a lot of the time..."

"How can I be angry when you have shared your heart? How can I be angry when you are in pain?" A sigh followed, the long heavy sigh of one much burdened. "Aragorn is angry with _me,"_ Legolas continued. "He says I do not control myself as I should. That I am wild when I need not be and I bring my people into disrepute with displays like today. He says I have hurt one he loves and he will not countenance that. Ah, it is so annoying when he is right."

So that was how his brother gained him access, with those harsh words. So Elrohir tried to repair that.

"He is angry I did not tell him of us...that is all Legolas. Do not brood on it."

"He is _angry_ because we placed him in an untenable position, forced him to call out and distract us. Now he must justify to his people why two elven lords try to slice each other in pieces and he blames himself for this..." Legolas waved a hand in the direction of his battered, bandaged side.

Behind his eyes there now lurked pain and fatigue. Now he reached the end of his endurance Elrohir could see it.

"We will not argue about the miriad of reasons my brother has to be angry at us." He said firmly "You are tired and if he returns to see that I will be in even more trouble. You should sleep Legolas."

"Stay." The slender hand squeezed his. "Do not go, Elrohir."

"Hush, I will not."You are stuck with me, Legolas. I promise, I am not going anywhere."

And he was certain, he was definite, he was sure. He meant it with all of his heart.


	10. Chapter 10

Estel came back of course. To check on him Elrohir thought. To make sure things had not all fallen apart in his absence.

"So he sleeps." His foster brothers voice sounded softly behind him.

"Yes, and I followed instructions brother. Your sutures remain in place."

"Well, thank goodness for that." Estel folded himself into the chair beside him. "I did not fancy holding him down to repeat that process yet _again."_

"He thinks you are angry at him."

"That is because I _am_ angry at him. He was as much a fool in this as you and it could have ended in disaster. He knows better than this. He is not a child, much as he occasionally acts as one."

 _"_ Remember the sealonging, Estel and watch your words." It made him anxious, the sealonging and Legolas' unhappiness when he was under its spell.

"I know about the sealonging, Elrohir. Believe me I will never forget it. But it does not excuse him this. It does not give him permission to forget himself like this and I will tell him so...as I tell _you_ so."

"He was miserable when he came to Imladris, you did not see—"

"I _have s_ een. I know him better than you do Elrohir."

He did _not_ like that. Estel suggesting he was closer to Legolas than he.

"Well that will change!" He bit back. "The day will come when I know him best."

"Good." Estel was not in the least perturbed. "It cannot come fast enough, for perhaps then you will know him well enough to avoid the kind of drama we have seen today. But at the moment you could do well to listen to me for you do not seem to know him at all." He reached out to touch Legolas' forehead gently while Elrohir watched. "And I tell you, Legolas deserved harsh words from me today and he needed to hear them. And now it is done, he has listened and we move on. But I never forget the sealonging when I deal with him, _never!"_

Then Estel fixed him with a glare so fierce it forced him to drop his head.

"I do not need you to remind me of that." he continued, "It excuses him many things but it does not excuse him this. Had your blow been an inch to the left it could have killed him. What then, Elrohir? Could you have lived with that? Could I, who caused your distraction? The pair of you were playing with fire."

He was right, and Elrohir knew he was right . . . And Legolas had known it too.

"Brother," Estel's voice softened then infused with love. A hand fell gently upon his own. "Legolas is a mystery, a conundrum, an enigma. And he can be beyond infuriating. If you want to pursue this you _must_ learn to understand him better than you do now. Or it will end in tears, as it nearly did today."

"I know that."

"Do not speak about me as if I was an imbecile, Aragorn." The voice, out of the blue startled them both and Elrohir turned in surprise to see a glint of green looking up at him.

"Do not behave like one then!" He was briefly taken aback by his brothers sharp reaction until he glimpsed the smile, brief but affectionate, and the answering one, a flash of brilliance lighting the darkened room. They were teasing.

His surprise must have showed upon his face for it was him Legolas spoke to next.

"The day has not yet come, Elrohir, that I need defending from this dishevelled human. Let him lecture me as he will. I will tell him when he is out of line...and ignore him when he is wrong."

"You ignore me far too often!" Estel protested.

"Then you are _wrong_ far too often!"

"Ah, Legolas," His brother sighed but it was with a smile. "You cause me too much grief. You frightened me today. Tell me you have heard me this time."

"I _hear_ you every time. Sometimes I choose not to listen." And Estel rolled his eyes at that.

"Choose to listen this time...please." A soft touch on the shoulder was all it took for Legolas to acquiesce. He smiled, shrugged his shoulders and admitted defeat.

"This time I have." He returned the gentle touch. "It will not happen again, Aragorn."

And Elrohir could only marvel then at his brothers skill to negotiate Legolas. How had he never noticed this casual, tender, guidance before?

The door when it opened surprised all three of them.

"Elrohir, can we talk?"

It was his sister standing there, the last person he expected and beside him he felt Legolas' tension spark into life.

"Hold yourself." He heard Estel whisper in the silvan's ear. "Stay in control Legolas."

Then with a quick pat on the shoulder his brother was on his feet, across the room and at Arwen's side.

"You did not tell me you would come here." He murmured as he held her close and Elrohir felt he intruded on something private as he watched.

"I needed to." The smile she gave him was a sad one, and how he hated to see his sister unhappy.

"And what about what Elrohir needs?" Legolas' voice cut through the air, sharp like a knife. "Is it only what you need that counts and his happiness is worth nothing?"

"Legolas—" There was a warning in Estel's voice as he spoke but Elrohir raised his hand to intervene. He would not stand here helpless while the three of them argued about _his_ destiny.

"This is _my_ problem, Legolas," his voice low as he whispered it in his lover's ear. "My problem to solve. Let me do it and be there to pick up the pieces. I know you are angry but let me do this."

And he saw it then, the fear flitting round the edges of those wide, flashing eyes. He knew it was there nowand he _understood_ it. He would not let that fear damage them yet again.

"There is nothing to fear here." He picked up the hand that lay there, fist clenched and cradled it in his own. "I am yours. I know my own mind and that will not change. I will not add to your grief."

For he knew what Legolas saw when he looked at his sad, grieving sister. He saw Elrohir's conflict, his uncertainty, his indecision. He saw Elrohir turning his back and walking away. And that would not happen; not now.

"We need to talk, my sister... but not here." And he watched Arwen's eyes sweep over them, seeing all as she always did. Did she see the fear behind Legolas' eyes or just the stubborn, determined, angry face he hid it behind?

"I know." She came towards them, bending over Legolas where he lay, placing a kiss upon his brow. "Will you forgive me, Legolas?" She asked quietly, so softly Elrohir did not think Estel, on the other side of the room would hear her.

"Do not make Elrohir feel guilty for loving me." Legolas' voice was just as soft, as quiet when he replied. "I thought you would know how that feels."

"I do know how that feels." He watched as his sister trailed her hand tenderly down the side of Legolas' cheek. "I do know." But then she lifted her head and the smile she gave Elrohir seemed to bright to be real.

"Shall we talk then brother, somewhere else, away from the ears of those who love us?"

And she took his hand reminding him of all the times long ago he walked with her, her small hand in his, her little girl steps stumbling along beside him, her laughter as she sang her childish nonsense, happy in the company of the big brother she worshipped.

It was all he could do not to cry.


	11. Chapter 11

They went to his room. He could think of nowhere else he could assure they would be away from prying eyes or ears, and his sister was quiet and subdued when they got there.

 _He_ was awkward. He did not know how to start this conversation they must have.

"I have chosen to be with Legolas," he said in the end for he owed her the truth and had withheld it from her before. "There it is, Arwen. I love him. I tried, I tried to protect myself from this so a choice would not be forced on me. . . But in the end it has."

"Oh, Brother," she took his hands between hers and leaned herself up against him, head resting on his chest. "I never wanted you to stay away from love for my sake."

"You wanted us to chose to stay." She had said that. Whatever she may say now did not change that and it did not change how she really felt. He knew that.

"I should not have said that," she sighed as she leant against him. "It slipped out when I was unguarded. Now Estel feels I regret my choice and Elladan feels I pressurise you unfairly . . . He is furious with me."

So Elladan had got to her before him. He imagined that had not been pleasant. His brother was the quiet, gentle one. Softer than he was; the Healer. But if he was crossed he had a temper which took others by surprise and he would fight tooth and nail to protect Elrohir.

"Do you?" He said, not wanting to dwell on whatever angry words Elladan might have had to say, "Do you regret your choice? Knowing I have chosen differently and Elladan... he will probably do likewise."

"He will certainly do likewise." She smiled at him then, "He will never allow himself to be separated from you."

She hesitated, briefly, momentarily, almost imperceptibly before she answered.

"No." In the end her answer was definite. "My fate lies with Estel. I knew that from the first. It has always been him." She reached up and touched his face, slender fingers brushing against his cheek with love, "I do not regret choosing to follow him but I do regret losing you. So I have hidden from that. I have allowed myself to pretend it might not be. The reality that it will does not change my choice...it makes it harder but it does _not_ change it."

She had always been more certain than him. Her mind, her path had always been clear to her where his was muddied and lost beneath a cloud of doubt. He envied her her surety.

"It has not been an easy choice for me." He said. He wanted her to know he had not turned his back on her easily. "I did not want to choose at all. I do not know what happened...suddenly Legolas was there and I could not leave him."

"Love happened! Love happened, Elrohir and I am so pleased. I have love, why would I resent you having it also? Legolas is right. You must _not_ feelguilty for loving him. Never feel guilty for that. I would not have you walk away from one who makes you happy for my sake. I would not have you follow me if it means spending the time forever in grief and loss."

"And now I will spend eternity grieving the loss of you." He tried to hide the bitterness in his voice at that, and failed. "I cannot win."

"No, you will not!" She clasped his hands between her own. "I command it, Elrohir." He had to smile watching her then for she reminded him so much of the child she used to be. The small, strong-willed girl who stuck out her bottom lip and stamped her feet demanding he taken notice of her. "You will be happy, and you will know, wherever I am that I am happy also with the one I love."

"I will try," It was all he could give her but still, when he thought of a lifetime of Legolas it was hard to resist the gladness that swept through his heart so perhaps...perhaps he could do that? Perhaps it was not an empty promise.

She shook her head fondly as she gazed upon him then.

"How did you end up entangled with a wild Silvan? I thought you the least likely to fall victim to his many charms."

How had he ended up with Legolas? Now he thought back he did not know. He could not put a finger on where...or when it happened. All he knew was he burned for him, he longed for the next minute he spent with him. The world was darker when they were apart. Somehow it had gone from a light distraction, an exciting diversion, to a love that consumed his entire soul.

"He cast a spell on me." It was not true of course but that was indeed how it felt. "He captured my heart when I was not looking. He fascinates me...I just...cannot _be_ without him."

"Then you understand, Elrohir! You understand why I have chosen as I have. You _know."_ Her face glowed with an excitement he did not expect and he realised it was true. He _did_ know as he had never done before, why she chose Estel. Why she would leave them. There was no other choice for her.

As there was no other choice for him.

oooooooooooooooooooo

The gold glinted in Legolas' hair as the sun lit it from above. It spilled across Elrohir's lap like river of light, so beautiful.

His eyes drank in the sight of Legolas, sprawled on the ground, head in his lap, as he stroked his fingers through those golden strands. He would never tire of watching him. With the sun warm upon his back, Legolas beside him, the skies clear above, he felt truly—in this moment—life was perfect.

But in one quick, smooth, graceful movement Legolas was on his feet, holding a hand down to encourage him to follow. It was not quite as smooth though, not quite as graceful, as it could have been. He saw the smallest catch, the slowness caused by the still healing wound in his lover's side.

"Come, spar with me," Legolas grinned down at him, brightly and he almost said yes simply because he knew it would make him happy.

"No!" Aragorn's voice rang out sharply from across the garden where he sat near Arwen, Gimli beside him as they indulged in their pipeweed. "No you will not. There will be no _sparing_ between the two of you in Minas Tirith. That is an order!"

It was a struggle to hide the laughter that threatened to spill from his lips at the sight of the frown now creasing Legolas' forehead.

"You are a spoilsport, Aragorn."

"You are a fool, Legolas."

"I second that," the dwarf joined in now. "How can you even suggest that, Legolas?"

"Elladan then?" Legolas looked hopefully across towards Elladan where he leaned, eyes closed, against a tree, basking in the sun.

"No." The refusal was just as firm and Elladan did not even bother to open his eyes.

"Be like that then." Legolas threw himself back to his position on the ground, head in Elrohir's lap but now a scowl marred his beautiful face despite Elrohir's calming touch.

And so he bent down towards him, letting his hair fall forward, a dark curtain of black shielding them from watchful eyes. They were in their own private world behind it.

"You are bored," he whispered with a smile.

"I am bored," Legolas agreed, "and Aragorn is _boring!"_ He raised his voice for the last, so his friend could not help but hear him.

"So be it, Legolas," Elrohir could hear the laughter in Estel's voice as he replied. "I am boring...it changes nothing."

There followed a heavy woodelven sigh.

"Stay," Elrohir murmered as he stroked the tension away. "It is a beautiful day and those we love are here. Stay and enjoy them, for our moments together tick away and today will be a memory like a jewel to ease us in the future."

The eyes of green that watched him grew serious then, shadows floating to the surface.

"And I take you from them. How you must hate me."

"No," He placed a hand over those lips. "Never say that. I _love_ you. There is grief ahead of us both...it is no-ones fault. It just _is,_ and we will find our way through it together."

"You have no regrets then?" He could see the hint of anxiety behind those eyes as the question hung in the air between them and he did not hesitate because he did not need to.

He was more certain of the answer than he had ever been, of anything. No doubt, no worry, no uncertainty.

"I have no regrets...no regrets at all."


End file.
